


Unforgivable

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: There is a moment, it lasts maybe a couple of seconds, in which Marti wonders if Nico has been listening to him at all. But then Nico looks at him. Really,reallylooks at him and Marti knows he knows.“What is it that you're ashamed of?” Nico asks, kind but resolute. He kisses his forehead and holds Marti's face in his hands. “Betraying your friend's trust? Or the feelings you had for him?”*Marti tells Gio, but first he tells Nico.





	Unforgivable

**Author's Note:**

> I don't do lack of closure. I think it shows.

It's spring again, and the memories come back.

They aren't like they used to be. They're not sudden, violent flashbacks that make him want to claw at his skin in shame and regret. It's subtler than that. A constant, obsessive undercurrent of _things aren't as good as they seem_ and _you've never really stopped lying to him._

_You don't deserve any of this._

“You haven't told Gio, have you? Please, one thing... Never tell him.”

Marti has trouble sleeping again, and Nico notices.

He's learnt not to push him by now, but he's tried to ask gently and Marti has been deflecting for a while now. But then Nico catches him staring out of the window through the blinds, maybe at three in the morning, maybe at five – he doesn't know. Time is difficult when he's feeling like this.

Nico wakes up in his bed and doesn't find him. Maybe he wakes up _because_ he doesn't find him.

He looks around anxiously and sees him standing at the window doing nothing, staring at nothing. He calls to him, his voice deep and croaky from sleep – but it's the distress in it that gets to him.

“Marti?”

Marti breaks down.

He wasn't planning on telling Nico.

He supposes he thought he would, someday. But the trouble with someday is that life goes on and you never want to spoil today, so you keeping putting it off. But someday happens anyway.

It's still dark outside, the dams burst, and it all comes out.

Between the sobs and the self-deprecating, Marti knows he isn't making a lot of sense, but once he starts he can't stop.

Nico holds him close and Marti hates himself as he clings to him and burrows in his arms, asking for comfort when he knows he doesn't deserve it. He speaks and he cries and he falls apart, Nico's slender frame the only thing holding him together.

He says many things, some he swore he would never say to anyone, and he hopes he will forget them all by morning. But he wants Nico to get it, he wants him to say he forgives him.

Most of all, he wants Nico to say that Gio will forgive him.

He's not ready for it when Nico asks: “Forgive you for what?”

There is a moment, it lasts maybe a couple of seconds, in which Marti wonders if Nico has been listening to him at all. But then Nico looks at him. Really, _really_ looks at him and Marti knows he knows.

“What is it that you're ashamed of?” Nico asks, kind but resolute. He kisses his forehead and holds Marti's face in his hands. “Betraying your friend's trust? Or the feelings you had for him?”

Marti breathes out deeply and lets his head fall forward against Nico's chest.

He doesn't reply, not out loud, but there is no need.

_It's both._

“Marti.” He can feel the words vibrate against Nico's ribcage. “There's nothing wrong with feelings. You know that, right?”

Marti shakes his head and wraps his arms around Nico's neck. He wishes he had the words to explain.

“Sorry,” is the only thing he manages in the end. “You deserve better than this.”

Nico sighs and holds him tighter.

“You're doing it again, Marti.”

“What?”

“Apologising for what you feel.”

*

Gio invites them over to the lake house for the Easter break and Marti wishes he hadn't. He goes anyway, of course, and he plays _Risk_ and FIFA and card games and sings off-key with the boys as usual, but he tries to avoid being alone with Gio at all times.

He's not sure he knows why. 

Maybe he's afraid of what he'll do when faced with an actual chance to explain. Maybe he fears that Gio will pick up on his low mood and start asking him questions. Maybe he's just ashamed.

Whatever it is, Marti just wants the trip to be over already so he can go home. Except time seems to slow down more and more with every passing hour.

On Thursday evening Nico declares that he will not answer for his actions if they dare put the _Risk_ board in front of him once again, and Elia and Luca readily agree.

Marti knows that Gio is waiting for him to meet his gaze so they can roll their eyes together, their mutual love for _Risk_ as legendary as it is misunderstood, but he doesn't want Gio to focus on him right now, so he doesn't look up.

“Well, what do you guys want to do then?” he asks, and it comes out harsher than he meant to. He tries to adjust the tone: “Instead of playing _Risk_ , I mean.”

“Let's play truth or dare!” Luchino suggests, and Hell breaks loose.

Everyone start complaining simultaneously that they're not in middle school anymore, that they're (almost) all eighteen now, and what's the point in playing when everyone is a guy so you can't even use it as an excuse to make out with people. At which point Nico asks why not, and Marti has to snort at how quiet the room gets all of a sudden.

… so of course they end up playing.

It's the stupidest thing, but he even manages to have fun in the end.

Not with the chili pepper, that's awful and his tongue still stings from it, but Luchino's astonished and weirdly pleased face after Nico gets dared by Elia to peck him on the lips is kind of hilarious. And the story of how Marti ran away when this girl tried to kiss him under the mistletoe when he was eleven is harmless fun too – though Marti tells it without ever looking at Gio.

Nico dares Marti to call a local radio station – the only one they can get in Bracciano – where they're doing a 00s revival and ask to dedicate _Sex Bomb_ to il Peccio, and Elia doesn't stop laughing about it for fifteen minutes straight. After that, it's Marti's turn to ask, and of course Gio gets the lowest number with the dice, so he's the one who's got to pick.

“Truth or dare?” Marti looks up at Gio for maybe the first time that day, and he sees him smile confidently back at him.

“Truth.”

Marti... well, he doesn't think much. He asks.

It's what he wants to know. It's what he's been tormenting himself with for almost a year now, and in the last few days it's been weighing on his mind constantly.

He asks impulsively, because this might be the only chance he gets. Because tomorrow he might not dare to.

“What is one thing that you would not forgive me for?”

He sees Nico's relaxed, slouched pose turn rigid on the chair next to his. He turns to Gio who is staring at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised.

“What does that mean?”

“What I said?” Marti knows he sounds defensive now. “One thing that you wouldn't forgive me for. It's not a hard question.”

“But it's so vague, man,” Gio shakes his head. “I guess I would not forgive you if you... God, I don't even know... if you murdered my brother?” He laughs. “Even though I've considered doing that myself, so you know.”

“No, but I'm talking realistic stuff, like... 'if you stole my girlfriend', things like that.” Marti pointedly doesn't look at Nico. Too close? “I wouldn't murder your brother!”

“But you'd steal my girlfriend?” Gio grins, but when Marti barely grimaces while trying to smile back he furrows his brow. He looks to Nico for an explanation, but Nico just shrugs. “Is everything alright with you, man?”

“Sure, why wouldn't it be?” Marti says, looking down at the table in front of him, his words measured, his heart beating almost out of his chest. He needs to steer the conversation away from this. God, what was he thinking bringing up the girlfriend thing? “So, what do you say? 'If I murdered your brother?'”

“Didn't you say that didn't count?”

“Well, you don't seem to have a different answer, so. Your turn.”

*

They go out to “smoke on the porch”, but neither of them actually smokes anything. They sit on the steps, Nico puts an arm around Marti's shouders, and Marti slumps against him, suddenly exhausted.

“What was that supposed to be?”

“I wanted an answer, but then I panicked.”

“I could see that.” Nico kisses the top of Marti's head. “You _could_ tell him, you know. I think... well, you know him better than I do. But when he couldn't come up with anything he wouldn't forgive you for, I think that's for real.”

Marti shakes his head.

“It was just a weird question.”

“Well, what wouldn't you forgive _him_ for? You know, murders aside. Have you thought about that?”

Marti considers it.

“Well, it's... a matter of context, I suppose. I can think of things, like... if he hated you, or my mum, or something like that. But I keep coming back to 'why would he do that?'”

“Maybe that's what he needs. You know, to try and understand,” Nico smiles gently. “A bit of context. Only you can give him that, though.”

“What if he doesn't let me explain?”

“Are we still talking about Gio, yeah? Because that doesn't sound like him _at all._ ”

Marti sighs.

“Ni, I ruined the best relationship of his life.”

“Look, I'm not saying he won't be angry. And you don't need _me_ to say that what you did was wrong. I'm just saying...” Marti can hear the smile in Nico's voice. “He loves you. And that has to count for something, right?”

Marti hides his face in Nico's hoodie and the words come out muffled and faint: “What do I do now?”

“You tell him the truth.”

“And what if he never wants to speak to me again?”

“Well, if that happens, I'll teach you how to communicate via flipbook notes.” Nico grins, very deliberately. “I hear that works.”

Marti snorts and hopes he doesn't blush. He turns his head away from Nico, just in case, and tries not to die of embarrassment as he pretends to stare at the wall of trees and shrubbery in front of him.

He knows why Nico is doing this. He knows he's hoping to break down the “DANGER! TABOO! DO NOT CROSS!” wall Marti has been building around this whole thing one silly joke at a time.

_It's okay. We can talk about this._

_We can joke about this._

That's how they've been dealing with everything that has come their way so far. It's worked fine, it's a good strategy. But still-

“This isn't me and you,” Marti says, and he doesn't dare meet Nico's eyes.

“No, this is you and Gio.” The quiet, matter-of-fact tone takes Marti's breath away. “Marti. _Marti_ , look at me.”

Marti does. He goes against every instinct he has and looks up. He almost starts crying when he sees Nico's gentle smile.

“I love you,” Nico says, enunciating clearly, without ever breaking eye-contact. And Marti huffs a laugh because he was about to say that too.

He kisses him then – a bit guilty, a bit desperate, completely overwhelmed by how grateful he's feeling – and he racks his brain for the right thing to say.

 _Sorry for putting you through this._ It comes unbidden, almost second nature to him – but no, no. There's another way to say this, a better way.

“Thank you for being here,” he says softly, as softly as he knows how. “I love you too.”

*

It's Friday night and Marti can't sleep.

They have the bed, he and Nico, because Gio is too kind for his own good, and he still can't sleep.

He gets out from under the covers as slowly and quietly as he can. Nico mumbles something incoherent in his sleep when Marti slips out from his embrace, but he doesn't wake up.

He finds his shoes right next to the bed, but can't for the life of him remember where he put his jacket, so he grabs Nico's black jacket and scarf, puts them on over his t-shirt and pyjama pants and heads out.

The house is in complete darkness, the boys snoring softly, the fire nothing more than embers now. The door creaks lightly when he opens it, but no one stirs and no one asks him what he thinks he's doing going out alone at God-knows-what-time-it-is at night.

It's not like he knows either.

As soon as he sits on the steps he regrets not taking his phone, or something to smoke – anything to occupy and hands and mind with. Instead he's left there in the night breeze, looking up at the stars, trying desperately to focus on the here and now – _minute by minute_ , he said it himself – because he's not sure he knows what tomorrow will be like.

He's not sure he wants to know.

The door creaks again, and Marti rolls his eyes without even turning to look because _of course._

“Go back inside, Ni, you'll catch something.”

“Mmmm... Try again?”

_Gio._

Marti freezes on the spot. A quiet “oh” is all he manages to reply and he hears Gio huff a laugh.

“Come on, don't sound so disappointed.” He sits down on the steps next to Marti and blows in his fists to warm them up. He's wearing a jacket over his night clothes, but no gloves. “You can't sleep.”

It's not really a question, and Marti shrugs.

“It happens sometimes. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Is it like it was back in November?”

Marti makes a non-committal sound, and Gio rolls his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me what's up with you or are you just gonna brood here until morning?” He grins. “I get that you like Jon Snow, but this is getting ridiculous.”

That makes him smile, despite everything.

“I think I'm going to brood here until morning, thanks.”

“Yes, I thought you'd say that.” Gio stands up abruptly and offers a hand to Marti. “Come on, let's go.”

Marti furrows his brow, and tries to suppress the feeling of déjà-vu.

“Where?”

Gio smiles.

“To the beach.”

“Why?”

“Because you're not sleeping, I'm not sleeping, and these are more words than you've said to me this whole week. Also, there's a full moon tonight.” Gio takes Marti's hand and Marti lets him pull him to his feet. He's missed him so much, though he was right there the whole time. “Come on.”

*

“You might not want to speak to me again. Like, ever. If I told you, I mean.”

The sand is coarse and cold under his fingers, but Marti's leaning back on his hands anyway. The water ripples gently in small silvery waves under the light breeze, and Gio was right.

It's a full moon night.

They're sitting on the beach, shoulder to shoulder, contemplating the peaceful wonder that is the lake at night, and Marti is painfully aware of how different this moment would feel if only Gio knew. It's probably the guilt that makes him speak first.

Gio turns to look at him.

“So this is the thing I would not forgive you for, right?”

Marti was expecting him to put two and two together, so he just nods.

“Well, that sounds unlikely. Gabri is still alive, as far as I know, so you're off the hook.”

“Gio, this is serious.”

“I can tell.” He sighs tiredly. “I just wish you'd give me the chance to decide for myself how to react to this. But you've already decided that I won't speak to you ever again, so.”

“It's about Eva.”

That catches him off guard, and Marti is immediately ashamed of the weird pleasure he feels when Gio doesn't know how to react to that.

_See? I was right._

_I don't deserve you._

“She... knows already.” Marti explains, maybe to try and reassure Gio, or maybe himself. “She found out last year, and she knows the truth now. But I made her promise not to tell you.”

“Marti.” Gio takes a deep breath. “Please just tell me. Please. Can't you see this is worse?”

“Worse is fine. I deserve _worse._ ”

“Well, _I_ don't.” Gio shakes his head, regretting his harsh words immediately. “I'm sorry. I don't... You've lost sleep over this, I don't wanna presume that I know better or-”

“I'll tell you.” Marti can't stand the thought of Gio turning this into a way of comforting _him_ – it's such a Gio thing to do. “But you have to promise me one thing. Please let me explain? I know I have no right to ask, I've been so selfish, but please, _please_. Whatever I say, whatever you think I'm saying. Please let me explain?”

Gio looks at Marti like he's not sure he recognises him anymore.

“Why wouldn't I let you explain? Who do you think you're talking to?”

 _Who do you think_ you're _talking to_ , Marti would like to ask – bitter and self-deprecating. But he doesn't.

He just sits cross-legged, staring distractedly at the way the sand slips through his fingers, escaping his grasp every time, and he starts speaking.

He tells Gio about all the times Eva confided in him. He tells him about how he took advantage of that and pushed her to think that Gio was being unfaithful, when he knew full well what was really going on.

He tells him about the kiss too. The one Eva was so worried about, the one which lasted for barely six seconds. He explains how he told Eva to say nothing and then spread the rumour behind her back, so that Gio would hear it from someone else – he still can't quite believe he really did that.

He's pretty sure Gio can't either.

He doesn't look up once as he speaks, but he doesn't need to. They've been friends for twelve years, he and Gio. He can tell from his the way his silence _feels_ when something is not right.

“What?”

“Nothing, you told me not to interrupt. Go on.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it.” Marti looks up at Gio and sees him shake his head, almost to himself. “You don't believe me?”

“I... It just doesn't make sense, Marti. You were trying to break us up? Why? You and Eva were friends!”

“We were. We are.”

“Then why the fuck would you do something like that? I don't- It doesn't-” Gio runs both hands through his hair. “Why would you do that?”

 _Here we go._ Marti closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. _The end of the line._

“I was jealous, Gio.”

“Jealous? Jealous of _what?!_ ” Gio's laugh is almost hysterical. “You don't even _like_ girls!”

“Yeah, I don't.” He waits for Gio to meet his gaze. When he does, he smiles at him – sad and rueful and tender and loving and guilty. Everything he's ever felt for Gio, he feels it again as their eyes meet on the beach. His bottom lip trembles, but his voice doesn't break. _There's nothing wrong with feelings._ “I don't like girls.”

It feels a lot like coming out again.

He watches as understanding dawns on Gio and his eyes go wide. He searches Marti's eyes for something – maybe a sign that he's joking, maybe something else – but he doesn't seem to find whatever it is he's looking for.

He's quiet for a long time, his mouth opening and closing several times, seemingly uncapable of making a sound. When he manages to speak again, his voice is croaky and unsure.

“How long?”

Marti shakes his head.

“That's not what this is about.”

“ _Martino._ ” A warning. “How long?”

“Since the summer after the first year of high school. Maybe when the second year began. It took me a while to get it.” Marti sighs. “And it lasted until, well. Until Nico, I guess.”

“Christ.”

Marti waits but Gio doesn't add anything to that. He has to make the conscious effort to stop fidgeting with the sand.

“Please say something.”

“What?”

“Anything. Just... talk to me, please.”

Gio shrugs and, when he speaks, his tone is flat: “Why have you never told me?”

“You were always with someone else.” Marti tries, because it's the easy way out. “There was Laura first, and then Eva, and then-”

“And then what?” That sounds more bitter than Marti was ready for and he flinches. Gio doesn't seem to notice. “You went through all that trouble... and then, when we actually broke up, nothing?”

“It wasn't like that.” Marti sighs. He has to go through with this. He owes Gio that much, and he owes it to himself too. “I never would- I knew you wouldn't- I lied, okay? I never would have said anything. It... it was so selfish of me, I know, but I couldn't bear to lose you. So I thought, better like this than... than not at all.”

“What do you mean 'not at all'?” Gio scoffs. “What do you think would have happened if you told me?”

“I don't know. What _would_ have happened if I told you?”

On a different day, at a different time, maybe in an another universe altogether, Gio's grimace could have been a smile.

“I don't know, I would have been more considerate with... with what I shared. Probably?” Gio's tone is flippant, but his words aren't, and Marti sees him cringe slightly. He doesn't know what he's recalling exactly, but they've always been big on oversharing, so there's a lot to choose from. “Maybe I would have asked you what you wanted me to do. And if you'd wanted to cut ties-”

“Not fucking likely.”

“-right. But if you'd _wanted to_ , well...” Gio appears to change his mind right in the middle of the sentence. “No, I don't think I could have let you go.” He pulls a face. “See? I'm selfish too. You're not _special._ ”

Silence stretches between them after that, not awkwardly as much as expectantly. It takes Marti a full minute to realise he's been so busy worrying about Gio never talking to him again that he forgot the whole point of this.

“Gio! _Gio_ , I'm so sorry.” He refrains from facepalming but it's a near thing.

“Oh, there it is.” Gio raises an eyebrow. “You took your time.”

“Sorry, I thought it was implied. I'm, like, as sorry as one can be, I swear.” He grimaces. “Sorry?”

Gio rolls his eyes.

“What did Eva say?”

“That I'm a psychopath. Also that saying 'I never meant to hurt you' is a shitty way to apologise, so, you see, I failed with her too.” Marti feels his heart beat faster as he watches Gio try not to smile. “I didn't tell her the whole truth, though. I told her I did it 'cause I fancied _her_. She found out... later.”

“When did you tell her?”

“In June last year.” Marti sighs. “Right before... well. Right before you guys broke up because of me.”

Gio snorts.

“Yeah, don't flatter yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“Now you're overdoing it.” Marti huffs a laugh, grateful and surprised, and Gio twists his mouth in a half-smile too. He looks Marti right in the eyes as he says: “We didn't break up because of you. You know that, right?”

“But I mean... you started fighting after you found out about the kiss, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah, but when we broke up-” Gio snorts and corrects himself. “When _Eva_ broke up with _me_... it had nothing to do with that. Not with the kiss, not with the rumours, not with any of that. It boiled down to... me being a dick, basically. I remember telling you that.”

“Yeah, but I thought-”

“You think too much,” Gio cuts him off decisively. Marti watches him narrow his eyes. “Actually, no. What were you thinking?”

Marti feels his heart sink in his chest again. He was such an idiot to hope.

It serves him right.

“Gio, I'm so so sorry, I swear. If there was anything I could do to-”

“My God, will you shut up already? It was a genuine question!” Gio rolls his eyes. “What _were_ you thinking? When you said those things to Eva, when you went to Canegallo's girlfriend. You said it wasn't so you'd have a chance. So I'm asking you: what were you thinking?”

Marti looks down at his hands again.

“Gio,” he says, just that. It sounds like a plea.

“Marti.”

It's gentle, gentler than he was expecting. Gentler than he deserves.

It's always been like that with Gio. Not a lot of words, but always the right ones, always the right way.

 _Marti_ , is what he says.

 _Make me understand_ , is what Marti hears.

He can't, he knows he can't. He barely understands it himself. But maybe for Gio he can try.

_There's nothing wrong with feelings._

He takes a deep breath.

“It was like... like being pulled in all directions at once. Everytime you came to me for advice, everytime Eva came to me for advice... I tried, I swear. I wanted to be a good friend for you. But I was-” He bites his lip to stop it from trembling, but he doesn't make it. A sob escapes him, and he wipes his eyes quickly, almost angrily. “I was stuck in the middle of it with no way out. And all I could think of was 'Please, _please_ , make this stop. Anything but this.' So I tried to stop it and...” He sniffles, a bit pathetically, and he doesn't dare look up. “I'm _so_ sorry, Gio.”

The gentle pressure on his shoulder makes him jump because it's the last thing he was expecting.

Gio touching him like he did before, like he's always done. It makes him sob harder, and suddenly he thinks of Nico. Of how he would roll his eyes at him and call him an idiot in the nicest way there is.

“I'm sorry too.” Gio says. “For making you feel like that, for hurting you. I'm sorry.”

Marti can't quite believe his ears. He's crying still, but he has to laugh.

“What?” Gio looks at him, incredulous and mildly offended. “What did I do _now?_ ”

“Nothing.” Marti tries to control his smile, but he can't. “Just... I knew this would turn into _you_ comforting _me_. I just knew it.”

“Did you? I thought you knew I would never speak to you again?”

Marti's smiles widens, he can't help it. This feels so right.

“Well, you see, I know several things at different levels of-”

“Dumbassery, yeah, I know.” Gio slaps him on the neck, but it's affectionate. “I've known you since you were six, remember? I'm still waiting, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For this thing I'm never forgiving you for?” Gio grins. “I'm warning you, if it's got to do with you eating the last cannolo, you're a dead man, Rametta, I swear I- _Oh!_ ”

Marti hugs him.

Well, he launches forward and mostly falls on him, so he tries and keep himself up by holding onto his neck. Gio laughs and hugs him back, his arms wrapped around Marti's waist.

“I love you,” Marti says, all instinct, as he hides his face in the crook of Gio's neck. He pauses and considers his words for a few seconds. “And by that I mean-”

“God, shut up.” Gio snorts and pinches Marti's sides to make him jump. “I love you too, you asshole.”

*

Nico is waiting on the steps.

Marti took his jacket and scarf, so Nico is wrapped up in a purple blanket. He must hear their steps because he's already looking in their direction when Marti and Gio come into view of the house.

Marti can see Nico's whole body slump against the handrail and release the tension as soon as he sees they are together. Marti wants to run to him and hug him and kiss him and thank him until the sun comes up, and then some more.

So he does.

Nico barely has time to stand up that Marti is already there, his arms around his neck, his lips on his, talking and laughing and kissing and failing at all three. He's never felt this happy in... he doesn't even remember how long.

Maybe he's never felt this happy full stop.

Gio smiles at them, as he leans against the handrail.

“You haven't seen Nico in... what? An hour and a half? Calm down.”

Marti couldn't calm down even if he wanted to. And why would he want to? He turns in Nico's arms to face Gio.

“Listen, I've got three words for you. No, wait.” He always gets this wrong. “Two words for you.” He leans back against Nico and turns his head to the side. “For you too. As we're awake and everything.”

Gio and Nico exchange an amused glance over Marti's shoulder, and Marti grins.

“Blanket. Fort.”

Gio's eyes light up and Marti beams at him – then he turns to meet Nico's gaze. He's smiling fondly.

“We'll need the sofa,” Nico points out sensibly. “Elia and Luchino are sleeping on it.”

“We'll wake them up.” Gio laughs. “That's the fun part!”

“Yes!” Marti takes both of Nico's hands in his. “And then we can switch off the lights and you can tell one of your stories from the radio programme.” He revels in it when Nico's smiles gets brighter. “The one with the zombie lady who keeps her lover's heart in a jar!”

Nico giggles.

“Isn't that a bit splatterish?”

“Is it? Well, that's it then,” Gio grins at Nico. “We pick that one.”

It takes them thirty minutes, several curse words – mainly Elia's when Gio wakes him up by throwing a wet kitchen rug in his face; Nico is way gentler with Luca – and a collective pledge to never _ever_ study Engineering at university, for the sake of human kind, but they make it in the end.

It's more a blanket gazebo than a fort, but honestly, who cares.

Five more minutes, and Marti is bundled up in Nico's purple blanket, his back against Gio's shoulder, his legs across Nico's lap. They're all listening to Nico tell his zombie story – his hand movements mesmerising, his cheekbones thrown into sharp relief by the light of a torch Gio found by accident while he was looking for spare blankets.

Marti loves Nico's story.

It's creepy and twisted and bittersweet, but somehow comforting too in its familiarity. And Nico's voice is so deep and soothing, and Marti is so cosy and comfortable propped up against Gio.

Sleep comes over him like a warm embrace, and he doesn't fight it.

He's forgiven himself at last.


End file.
